Hear Me Out
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: He was back three days three days and she hadn't heard from him. LupinTonks.


He was back.

Three weeks.

He was back three weeks and she'd only heard about him second-hand. From Arthur and Mad Eye and Kingsley. Only Arthur had been truly forthcoming, allowing his eyes to become softer when he spoke of Remus and his encounters.

Before Arthur had left her apartment, he'd mumbled about something about longing and then had left, wondering whether the eldest Weasley was speculating about the man she loved or relaying an embarrassingly-private message.

She hoped for the latter, though knew that the former was far more likely.

He had an answer phone, a Muggle thing, but he thought it to be necessary. Necessary because virtually no one in the wizarding world used a telephone; people from the Order could reach him easily, through a method that was virtually undetectable to men and women who thought Muggles to be repugnant scum. She called often, just to his mumbled muttering, asking the caller to leave a message...

Or just leave.

Always smiling; she would always smile when she would hang up, lingering on his recorded words before she burst into tears, wishing she didn't feel, _feel_. Tonks wished he hadn't made her listen to a record player (another Muggle thing, he was fascinated with them and she found his fascination alluring), wished she didn't know who the Rolling Stones were, wished she didn't know what it felt like to kiss him while Sting crooned out lyrics meant for lovers.

(Were they lovers? When he touched her, she thought they might be, she _felt_they might be...)

She wished, wished she didn't know what it felt like to be held in his arms, slow dancing to a decidedly upbeat song, while Van Morrison sang of a brown-eyed girl. He would joke about his pink-eyed girl, about his violet eyed girl and she would respond in kind, morphing, happy to just be in his arms.

He was a slave to the classics, and so she bought records. She bought records and records and a player and more records and albums that no one had heard of but that he had spoke of and she listened and listened and damn, she listened. The scratchy, crackly sound of the old tunes made her think of him and she cried, cried.

A pillow over her face, that's exactly what it felt like. Searching for breath while The Doors raged about loving her madly. Madly. Badly, loving her ways.

And that was how she knew she was in love.

Drowning every day, suffocation, as though he were kneeling over her mouth and nose with a feather-down pillow, taking all the breath from her life, slowly stealing bits of life from her.

"Just speak up, I know you're there..." she breathed into the mouth of a payphone."I'm not myself..."

Not since you left, is what she wanted to say but she didn't because she wasn't that type of woman.

Stubborn, tough-as-nails, (clumsy), proud, that was what she was and she wouldn't say she missed him. Even though she did, did to the point that she didn't eat, sleep, speak.

It was horrible; she didn't want to be that person.

A jean skirt, a torn pair of green tights and a black shirt that was just a little too tight; she threw them on and tore out the door with her bag slung over her shoulder. Remus's flat was only across town, and she set off, her heavy boots marking cadence across the slightly-damp pavement. Passersbys simply thought her angered; they didn't understand the anguish, the sadness, the longing that the soles of her shoes beat out.

Her own flat wasn't in the best part of town, but she always carried herself like she knew the streets, knew how mean they were. Tonks passed the back alleys and pubfronts without a second glances, splashed through puddles and kicked rocks out of her way. Her body was rigid with anger, her muscles and bones moving her towards the direction of him without thought.

As she moved across the street, _his_ street, she wiped the perspiration off of the back of her neck, bit the inside of her cheek and tugged down the hem of her shirt. Steeling her small body, Tonks trudged up the stairs, finding the number for his place and jamming her finger to the corresponding button. After a moment or two with no answer, she slammed her finger against the button once more.

It only served to fuel her anger towards him. Something inside snapped and she began slamming her palm repeatedly into the button, not mindful of whether he was home or not, simply needing something to release her rage upon. Before she knew it she was slamming her fists into whatever buttons they fell upon; tears began rolling down her cheeks without inhibition.

Choked sobs began to slip from her throat and it seemed that all of the strength had been sapped from her body. As she pulled back from the board, an arm grabbed her around the waist and as she stood to swing at the supposed attacked, Remus reached his hand out and stopped her fist.

"Nympha-Tonks, what, what in Heaven's name, I mean what in Heaven's _name_!?"

Walking her inside the foyer, he shut the door behind him and dragged her along down the hall to his door; it was open, he must have hurried out to the door to have not closed it behind him. Leading her inside whilst whispering indiscernible things, he sat her down on the worn, dusty sofa and disappeared from the room.

Ashamed for her outburst, Tonks swiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks with the back of her hands.

Holding them out in front of her, she watched as they fluttered and shook in the muted light from the dying fire. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and sighed, straightening her spine and pretending to be proud. There was no point, he would see right through it.

And she would let him.

A moment later, Remus reappeared with two teacups in hand. Sauntering over to her, he handed her a steaming cup and urged her to sit back. As she stiffly sat back, he took a seat across from her, by the fire. The light from the flames made him glow ethereal; it almost made her break down once more.

"Now, what was that all about?" A casual sip from his tea made the moment seem nearly-common.

Lifting her teacup to her mouth, Tonks attempted to sip, but couldn't bring herself to do so. Instead, she slammed the cup and saucer down on the table astride her and leaned forward. "It's been three weeks, you can't simply... you can't..."

"Before I left," he said calmly, unable to look at her. "We discussed this." When he did look back at her, he looked tired, sad, lonely, lost. She wouldn't stand for it, not now, not after everything. Months of not knowing if he was alive, if he'd been discovered. It was torturous, he'd put her through torture and though no, it wasn't entirely his fault, it was much easier to blame him for it.

She hated him.

Hated him.

Tonks was up out of her seat and moving across the room, wanting to throttle him because she hated him.

God, she loved him.

And then her lips were on his, hands tugging in his hair, clutching him desperately. His teacup clattered to the floor, liquid seeping into the dirty rug as his hands clenched and unclenched, wondering what to do with themselves.

A beat later and they were pressed to the exposed skin of her lower back, holding her steady as she began to cry, still kissing him, still assaulting his lips with a passion that nearly frightened him.

Opening his mouth to speak, to stop her, to do... something, she slipped her tongue inside, continued to cry but stole the breath from him.

It was all he could do to kiss her back as Tonks lifted her body and straddled his thighs properly.

Groaning against his will, Remus's fingers curled, his nails scratching her smooth skin as she moved to get closer, closer, dear Merlin, closer. "Love you," she gasped as she shifted her lips into a different position. "Okay? Okay?" It was all raspy, he could barely make it out, but he did, and bucked against her.

"Na-Tonks, I-" he managed as she pulled back for a breath but when he saw her, disheveled, out of breath, mascara tracks beneath her eyes, chest heaving he leaned forward and kissed her again, mouth landing on her neck, sucking there as she wilted onto him and sobbed, one last time.

"We discussed this," he whispered when he managed to tear himself away. "We discussed this..."

"No," she gasped, pushing sticky hair off of her forehead, "You talked..."

Remus blinked at her as she stood and withdrew, "And I pretended to listen."

Smoothing down her skirt, Tonks straightened her spine and stuck her hands in her pocket. "You heard what I said," and she turned to leave. "And you can choose to pretend to not have heard that... or not."


End file.
